Who Can Touch a Unicorn?
by writteninhaste
Summary: An extension to the final scene in episode 11. Now a multi-parter by popular demand. Rated T because this looks like it will quickly devolve into slash and smut - you have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Who Can Touch Unicorn?**

Merlin released a longing sigh as he watched the unicorn trot away deeper into the forest. He could hardly begin to describe the sense of utter tranquillity that descended upon him at the sight. It was as though the unicorn was the purest creature he would ever see, and his heart was unwilling to let the moment go.

Beside him, Arthur drew a reverent breath, his eyes transfixed upon the spot where the unicorn had stood only moments before.

"Beautiful." The word was said so quietly, that Merlin almost convinced himself he had not heard it. But he had seen Arthur's lips move, and though he knew the Prince would later deny it, it was clear the young man had been as affected by the presence of the unicorn as he had.

"It's even better when you're close to one." Merlin told him quietly, unwilling to disturb the peaceful silence more than was necessary.

"You managed to get close to it?" Arthur asked, tone rife with surprise and amusement.

Merlin frowned. "You know I did." He responded. "I yelled at you not to shoot moments before you took the shot." A slight wince passed across Arthur's features at the words, and Merlin felt momentarily guilty for resurrecting the memory.

"Oh," Arthur said after a moment's silence. "I thought you were still at the other end of the clearing – I didn't realise it actually let you come _near_ it." Again there was barely disguised laughter in Arthur's voice, and Merlin, for his part, failed to see what was so funny.

"What?" He demanded rather irritably, turning to face the Prince.

Arthur's face was drawn into his customary smirk. "The legends say that only a maiden may approach a unicorn, Merlin." He informed his manservant promptly, offering the other boy a leer as he looked him up and down.

Affronted, Merlin drew himself up to his full height, propping his hands on his hips. "Well obviously the legends are wrong." He said tartly, "I'm _not_ a girl."

"Not that kind of a maiden, Merlin."

Arthur was laughing openly now, spurred on by the look of horror on Merlin's face, and the light blush that was rising in his cheeks.

"Well they – they're wrong." The young warlock protested vehemently, studiously avoiding Arthur's gaze and attempting to dispel the blush from his cheeks. He could still hear Arthur laughing, but he knew there was no malice intended. With a sigh, he turned back and busied himself with finishing the grave for the unicorn's horn.

Arthur knelt beside him, strong hands deftly arranging the rocks into a stable structure that would withstand the harsher winds that occasionally tore through the forest.

After a while, he began speaking again, in a conversational tone that Merlin had learnt to be wary of. "It's nothing to be ashamed of you know." The prince offered casually, ignoring the glare his manservant sent his way. "We can't all be blessed with good looks and gracious charms." He clapped a friendly hand down on the other man's shoulder. "I'm sure there's a woman out there somewhere, who's willing to look past your physical short comings." Merlin brushed the hand irritably from his shoulder, causing Arthur to laugh, and focused on placing the last of the stones at precisely the right angle. He knew for a fact that Arthur had taken many a serving-maid to his bed, during the time Merlin had been in his service, though he had only ever invited the ones who had shown interest first. Arthur was very careful not to make any overtures to woman who had not made their intentions obvious, he did not wish for any woman to feel she _must_ comply simply because he was the prince. He also made it a point to avoid those who had shared a bed with his father.

Apparently oblivious to Merlin's wish to drop the conversation, Arthur continued. "I'm sure if I tried, I could find a woman willing to have you. Not Gwen though, I'm afraid – she's far too virtuous – if you're still in love with her you're just going to have to wait. I'm sure several of the scullery maids however, don't find you all that unattractive." He ran an appraising eye over Merlin's form, and the sorcerer had to fight the urge not to squirm. "After all, you're not _completely_ unfortunate looking."

Merlin blinked owlishly at him and Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "Well," he coughed, "that is to say –" he tailed off, not entirely sure what he had meant to say. Merlin was still looking at him, and Arthur was suddenly struck by the fact that his servant actually looked rather good.

If one were to ignore the slightly obtrusive ears and the obvious lack of courtly manners, Merlin was really quite attractive. His skin was as pale as Morgana's, his eyes just as blue and his hair just as dark. He had high cheekbones and lips that liked to smile, and Arthur knew for a fact that despite appearences, Merlin's clothing most probably hid a liethly tone physique. He had after all, been part of a farming community before coming to Camelot - and hard labour in those villages was a necessity.

The man in question raised his eyebrows slightly, and Arthur realised he had been staring. Abruptly, he pushed to his feet, clearing his throat to hide his discomfort. Muttering something about finding the horses, he strode purposefully away, silently wondering just what it meant that he thought his manservant was good looking.

* * *

**A/N: Continue or not to continue....you decide.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Who Can Touch a Unicorn?**

_Chapter 2_

It had been three weeks since the 'unicorn incident' as Arthur had privately termed it, and in that time he had done his utmost not to think of Merlin's more…attractive qualities. He had chosen instead to focus on his manservant's habitual clumsiness, his inability to speak with anything even remotely resembling respect for Arthur's station and all the other, minor, irritating details that Arthur attributed solely to Merlin.

It came as no surprise to him therefore, when on a day when Gaius had not been present to rouse Merlin from his slumber, the young man had failed to show up in Arthur's chambers at the appointed time. Arthur himself, had huffed and sighed, waited patiently for all of five minutes before deciding to dress himself, then stormed through the castle towards the physician's quarters with the sole intent of giving Merlin a piece of his mind.

He maintained this resolve right up to the moment when he barged into Merlin's tiny bedroom, at which point all coherent thought promptly vanished. Because Merlin, as it transpired, slept naked.

Arthur was forced to take a deep steadying breath and restrain himself from pouncing like an animal. There lay Merlin, spread eagled upon the rough wool blanket, pale, glorious and erect, exposing himself for all the word to see. Arthur rather enjoyed the sight. He must have made some sort of noise, as at that moment Merlin snorted softly and seemed to jerk himself awake, eyes widening in horror as he registered Arthur's presence in the room.

"Arthur." He gasped in horror, scrambling to cover himself with the blanket. The blanket however, refused to be shifted, trapped as it was by the warlock's own weight, and so Merlin was left cupping his hands awkwardly over himself and looking anywhere but the prince – who happened to be staring.

Collecting himself, Arthur cleared his throat and looked away, thankful that years of court training prevented the blush from rising in his cheeks and that he had chosen to wear his looser breaches today.

"Training, Merlin." He barked, staring pointedly at a spot above Merlin's head. "Five minutes." That said, he spun on his heel and swept from the room, mustering all the princely grace he could manage, and trying not to advertise how awkward it was to walk when painfully erect.

* * *

Stumbling backwards as Arthur aimed another blow at his shield, Merlin tried desperately to focus on the instructions Arthur was yelling, and not on how his master's sweat soaked shirt clung lovingly to every muscle in his body. Mentally cursing as Arthur landed yet another blow, Merlin wondered why, today of all days, Arthur had chosen to forego armour when training. He had a hard enough time trying not to stare at Arthur anyway, but on a day when he had been so unexpectantly woken from a rather enjoyable dream – in which Arthur played a starring role – it was positively torture. He dodged, and Arthur's arm stretched passed him, forcing the lacings of his shirt to pull wide with the movement, exposing golden skin beaded with sweat. Merlin moaned. Arthur stumbled to a halt. Merlin quickly turned to moan into a groan of pain.

"Ouch." He offered feebly, fully aware that his rather poor acting skills were unlikely to be enough to fool the prince.

"I didn't even touch you." Arthur stated, letting his sword drop to his side.

"I know, I think I pulled a muscle." Merlin assured him. He launched a fervent prayer that Arthur dismissed him to Gaius's chambers before he did something foolish like accost the prince, and then wondered if it was blasphemous to do so. Arthur watched him carefully for a full minute, during which point Merlin made sure to contort his face into a grimace of pain, before nodding and sending him off to the physician.

Merlin had never moved so quickly in his life.

* * *

Watching his manservant's retreating back, Arthur scratched his head thoughtfully, then hastily stopped when he realised what he was doing. It seemed absurd, impossible even, but for a moment there, he could have sworn that Merlin _moaned_.

Arthur had shared his bed with enough of the serving maids to know the sound when he heard it, but to be coming from the mouth of his servant – Arthur hastily broke off the thought. Merlin's behaviour was odd – nothing more – and it certainly wasn't arousing. Not at all. well, in truth, it was more than Arthur could have hoped for. The only problem was, was that it had occurred in entirely the wrong context. In those rare and fleeting moments when Arthur had let himself think about it, Merlin had always been moaning in ecstasy beneath him, not whilst standing on the opposite side of a training ground. It was odd, though also rather arousing. As he made his way back to the armoury, Arthur wondered whether people would think it odd, if he requested a bath of _cold_ water.

* * *

The feast that night, was sublimely awkward. Arthur seemed to have become obsessed with monitoring Merlin's every movement, and the young warlock was privately terrified that the prince would realise he wasn't injured at all and demand an explanation for the morning's events. To make matters worse, Merlin had become hyperaware of everything associated with Arthur's person. His focus seemed to have sharpened, and narrowed until all he saw was Arthur: the way the velvet of his doublet rested against his shoulders, the minute movement of tendons in his hand as he reached for his glass, the way the very air seemed to heat and crackle between them whenever Merlin refilled Arthur's goblet.

Arthur, in contrast, seemed entirely unaware of the affect he was having upon his attendant. Merlin was sure that the way his breathing quickened and his pulse sped up every time he was at Arthur's side, would have alerted Camelot's best hunter that something was wrong, but the prince appeared oblivious.

* * *

Arthur was not oblivious. He had noticed the way Merlin seemed to shiver every time Arthur's breath ghosted over his skin, and he confirmed this by deliberately breathing on the boy's neck when he leaned over to refill Arthur's wine glass. Breathing deeply, Arthur licked his lips. Merlin smelt tantalisingly of wood-smoke, herbs, and an unidentifiable zest that Arthur was pretty sure was the boy's natural scent. It was a heady combination, raising Arthur's blood and prompting him to lean closer to his manservant. He speculated idly, if Merlin's skin was as soft as it looked.

Merlin withdrew just as Arthur was preparing to flick his tongue against that smooth white throat, and the shock of suddenly being once again alone in his own space, jolted Arthur into reality. Glancing hastily around, he wondered just what in God's name he thought he was doing. He stared suspiciously at his wine, contemplating whether it had been laced with some form of aphrodisiac, but that fact that even the sight of Morgana in one of her more revealing gowns did nothing to arouse him seemed to negate that. Besides, his lust for Merlin had been present before tonight. Staring unseeingly at his half-eaten meal, he wondered if he had been enchanted. It would make sense, he thought, because there was no way he was attracted to _Merlin_. Was there?

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it, the second installment. More coming soon - including some of Merlin's PoV. Concrit is love.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Who Can Touch A Unicorn?**

_Chapter 3_

Merlin, Arthur decided, was a _terrible _manservant. Of course, he had said as much before – but this time he _really _meant it. Honestly, what kind of a manservant made cleaning armour look so … _erotic?!?_ He had returned to his chambers, expecting to find them empty and instead had been confronted with the sight of Merlin actually doing his job for once. Arthur was sure none of his other servants had ever caressed the hilt of his sword so lovingly, or run their fingers so luxuriously down the blade. Then again, he was sure none of his other servants had such pale and elegant fingers either.

It should be a crime for any servant to have such dexterous digits, Arthur told himself, as, with a twist of the wrist, Merlin flicked the cloth he had been using to polish Arthur's sword over the pommel, cupping it gently in his palm.

Since the moment at the feast, Arthur had come to terms with the fact that a spell had been cast upon him. It was a logical assumption, he assured himself, there was no way he would _willingly_ be attracted to Merlin. The mere idea was preposterous.

Of course, there was no need to inform his father of this. As spells went, this was obviously harmless, and truth be told Arthur did not want to have to explain to his father the exact nature of the spell – let alone the feelings it had evoked.

As he watched Merlin's tongue dart out to wet his lips in concentration, Arthur resolved _never_ to tell a living soul of this spell. He would simply have to deal with in his own way – yes, that made perfect sense.

* * *

The easiest way to deal with this problem, Arthur decided, was to remove Merlin from his presence entirely. All he needed to do was relieve Merlin of his duties until such time as the affects of the spell wore off. After all, if he could not see Merlin, he would hardly feel the need to pin his manservant against a wall and ravish him.

Unfortunately, just as Arthur reached this conclusion, Merlin happened to raise his head – finally noticing that Arthur had entered his own chambers (he really was a terrible servant) – and smiled. That smile was Arthur's undoing.

He was sure Merlin did it on purpose – smiled at him with such open adoration just to ensure Arthur would never dismiss him.

* * *

Merlin strove to keep his eyes from drifting south of Arthur's face as he smiled a welcome to the Prince. He had been aware of Arthur presence for sometime, but had delayed looking up until he was sure he could face Arthur without blatant lust plastered across his features. When he finally managed to get a grip on his raging hormones, it was to be confronted with the sight of Arthur, once again, in a sweat-soaked shirt, straight from training with his knights.

Merlin's smile tightened ever so slightly as he repeated his mantra in his head: _do not molest Arthur, do not molest Arthur._

The Prince, seemed entirely unaware of Merlin's dilemma, and gave an order that sent Merlin's imagination into overdrive.

"Bath, Merlin. Now."

Bath. Water. Wet Arthur. Wet _naked_ Arthur. Oh Lord.

Arthur gave an impatient huff, brows drawing together in irritation and Merlin stood hastily, carefully placing the sword on the table before rushing to do as he was bid.

* * *

Arthur watched as Merlin upended the final bucket of steaming water into the tub and stood back with an air of triumph. Imperiously, the Prince raised his arms and waited for his manservant to help him undress.

Arthur had been thinking, as Merlin had prepared his bath water, and he had come to the conclusion that the quickest way to rid himself of the spell, was to give it what it wanted: Merlin - sweaty and naked. As Merlin's quick fingers unlaced shirt and breeches, Arthur formed a rapid plan in his mind. The plan was rough but serviceable – he was not a master tactician for nothing.

Once he was settled into the water, and Merlin was about to leave – as was customary between them – Arthur raised one hand lazily.

"Merlin, I am far too tired to wash myself today. You're going to have to do it for me."

* * *

Merlin was sure all his fantasies had come true at once. Well maybe not _all_ – but certainly a considerable number. There was one that involved beaten cream, summer fruits, and honey – but one could not expect to have everything in life.

Trembling with anticipation, and trying valiantly to suppress it, Merlin moved towards the edge of the tub. Taking the wash cloth from Arthur's proffered hand, Merlin dipped in into the water, letting his knuckles graze against Arthur's thigh as he did so. The Prince shuddered slightly and Merlin was not sure what to make of it.

After several minutes spent lavishing attention to Arthur's torso, Merlin once again dipped the cloth into the water. Unfortunately, he also succeeded in soaking his sleeve, which had fallen from where he had pushed it above his elbow. Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, Merlin, you are clumsy. If you're going to insist on being so careless you might as well take the shirt off – I don't want you dripping everywhere." Arthur said - and then, as an afterthought, added, "And remove those breeches while you're at it."

Obediently, Merlin divested himself of his clothing, noticing that as he did so, Arthur shivered violently. The young warlock made a mental note to ask Gaius for a draught to stave off chills once he was done here.

Returning to the task at hand, Merlin crushed some soapwort leaves and proceeded to work the rich lather over Arthur's body. The Prince groaned under the ministrations, and Merlin wondered if he had pulled a muscle whilst training. It was not until he dipped his hand lower, to wash Arthur's navel that he realised the Prince was groaning for an entirely different reason.

Frozen, Merlin paused, hand scant millimetres from Arthur's hardened length. He risked a glance at his master, blood rushing to his cheeks when the Prince merely raised an expectant eyebrow. Tentatively, Merlin stroked his fingers down the silky flesh, watching Arthur's face for any sign that he should stop.

* * *

Arthur refused to look away from Merlin's gaze. Staring his manservant straight in the eye, Arthur slipped one hand below the water and wrapped it around Merlin's, guiding his servant's fingers up and down in a sensual rhythm. Still leading Merlin's movement, the Prince swiped those long, elegant fingers over his swollen head, gasping as one of Merlin's fingers dipped into the slit.

Merlin took this as a sign of encouragement, his movements becoming bolder and more sure of themselves. Arthur realised that if he were to let this go one much longer, it would be over all too quickly. With an effort of will, he disentangled Merlin's fingers from his body, opting instead to pull the young man over the edge of the tub until his face was scant inches from Arthur's lips.

He waited only long enough to ensure Merlin would not pull away before capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. He felt Merlin moan into the contact, leaning forward and forward, until with a splash he landed in Arthur's lap.

* * *

Water sloshed heavily over the sides, and Merlin broke away to stare at it in horror – it would take ages to clean up – before Arthur forcibly dragged his head back around and engaged him in more pleasant activities. Arthur hands ghosted over Merlin's skin, nails raking lightly down his back, tongue flicking over a hardened nipple before biting gently. Merlin lent into the contact, trying to feel as much of Arthur as he could in one go. He was sure he was in heaven, Arthur slick, naked body pressed tight against his own. He knew he was rutting like an animal in heat, but he could not bring himself to do any differently – besides, Arthur was just the same.

He was so delirious with pleasure, that he did not realise the Prince had shifted – moving so that Merlin was straddling his hips and his arms were around Arthur' neck – until in a feat of strength, the Prince gripped the side of the bathtub and pushed himself upright.

Instinctively, Merlin wrapped himself tightly around his master, to prevent himself from falling; he could hear Arthur chuckling as he held Merlin to him. Merlin clung, desperate, as Arthur stepped out of the tub and walked the few short feet to the bed, where he dropped Merlin unceremoniously on to the covers.

* * *

Arthur gazed down at the long expanse of soft, pale skin laid out before him. He could see the curve of Merlin's hip bones and the swell of his rib-cage above his breast. He made a mental note to make Merlin eat more – as tall as the boy was, it should not have been that easy to lift him.

He stayed, content to stare at Merlin's naked body, until the raven-haired young man reached for him imploringly. Complying, Arthur draped himself along Merlin's body, smirking as he felt his companion squirm in pleasure.

* * *

Merlin felt as though the very blood in his veins was on fire. It was too much, it wasn't enough. His hands slid over Arthur's skin, clutching, releasing; desperate for something he could not name. He wanted to feel Arthur, on him, above him, in him. The heat radiating from the Prince was life bathing in fire.

He watched through heavy lidded eyes as Arthur licked and nipped his way down Merlin's body, reducing his servant to incoherent groans and half-formed pleading cries. Teasingly, he licked the skin of Merlin's abdomen, just above where his cock lay – thick and swollen, smearing pre-come along the skin. Merlin mewled and bucked helplessly.

Arthur pressed one hand against Merlin's hip to keep him in place and then without any preamble, swallowed Merlin to the hilt.

Merlin cried out and arched off the bed as wet heat surrounded him in a way it never had before. He wanted to say something, anything - to praise Arthur, worship him, beg him never to stop, but all his mind could come up with was: _hotwetgoodyes_. Arthur was sucking, tongue laving against the head of Merlin's cock and Merlin could feel himself getting close, closer.

* * *

Arthur released Merlin's cock with a wet pop, swiping his tongue once more across the length before crawling back up Merlin's body, a predatory grin plastered across his face. His eyes, already dark with lust, darkened further, as he surveyed the pink flush spreading across Merlin's cheeks – his pupils wide and dilated, mouth open and glistening. Reaching up behind the headboard, Arthur snagged his fingers around a cord and tugged. A vial tumbled into view – one of the ones Gaius used for storing muscle liniment – and Arthur wasted no time in removing the stopper and coating his fingers in the thick fluid.

Keeping his gaze locked on Merlin's, Arthur slowly slid one hand between Merlin's cheeks – gently massaging the flesh in an attempt to help Merlin relax. Murmuring reassuring words into the warlock's mouth as he kissed him, Arthur slid one finger into Merlin's tight, puckered hole.

Once he was buried in Merlin up to the knuckle, Arthur crooked his finger experimentally and light burst behind Merlin's eyelids. With a gasping cry, the warlock bucked upwards, blood surging with renewed vigour to his groin.

Arthur chuckled and set about stretching Merlin wider, gradually adding a second finger and then a third – always making sure to hit that bundle of nerves until Merlin was hissing obscenities in his ear.

"Fuck me." The whispered command was almost enough to make Arthur come right there. He pulled his fingers from Merlin – ignoring the groan of loss the resulted – and sank into the hot channel, eyes rolling back into his head as Merlin's heat surrounded him. He stilled, panting, not wishing to hurt his lover, until the young man thrust his hips brutally towards Arthur's – a silent demand to move.

Arthur did so, picking up a hard, deep rhythm that had Merlin moaning loud enough for all of Camelot to hear – head thrown back against the pillows and pale skin gleaming with sweat. Merlin met him thrust for thrust, Arthur's name spilling in a continuous cry from his lips like a prayer, until he barely had the breath to speak.

Merlin's legs instinctively wrapped around Arthur's waist as the Prince drove harder, deeper, in accordance to Merlin's demands. Catching sight of Merlin's hardened prick, Arthur slid one hand between them, the last vestiges of oil still coating his fingers, and began to pump Merlin's shaft in time to his own thrusts.

Merlin's whole body tensed, like a harp string about to snap, before he moaned Arthur's name and came – spilling his seed across his stomach and into Arthur's hand. Elsewhere in the castle, a vase in Morgana's room broke to pieces, Uther's chair collapsed beneath his weight and the stuffing exploded from Merlin's bed in Gaius' chambers.

As Merlin's muscles clenched tight around him, Arthur gave a hoarse yell and followed his lover over the edge into blissful oblivion. He collapsed, in a sated heap on top of Merlin, who whined in loss when Arthur slipped gently from him. The whine was quickly replaced by a sigh of contentment as the Prince gathered his servant into his arms, and pulled him snug against his chest.

As Merlin's breath evened out into sleep, Arthur acknowledged that there had never been an enchantment. He had wanted Merlin of his own volition. But that was okay, because apparently, Merlin also wanted him.

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it - the biggest load of crack (and what basically amounts to porn) that I have ever written. Apologies for any mistakes this was unbetad. And yes, I realise it is historically inaccurate.**


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